Seasons With You
by madeleine68
Summary: Olivia and Alex together, all through the seasons. A/O of course. There are four parts, one for each season. THE FINAL PART IS UP!
1. Winters With You

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Dick Wolf. Not me. Maybe I should write to him and ask him to transfer the copyright . . . not likely.**

**This is an idea I had and I'm running with it. There are going to be four parts of all the different seasons that Alex and Olivia shared. Here's the first one, **_**Winters With You. **_**I hope you like it!**

Winters With You

During winters with you, we got a taste of the childhoods neither of us really had. We went sledding and skiing and made snow angels at Central Park. I taught you how to build a snowman, and I couldn't believe you'd never done it before. You taught me to skate, and you couldn't believe I'd never done it before. We held hands as we plodded through knee-deep snow because I had the brilliant idea to walk to work in zero degree weather.

We curled up on the couch as the fire danced in its grate, covered in heavy blankets and holding each other as we sipped hot chocolate. You added more cold milk to your cocoa after I'd warmed it up for you, and when I asked if you'd like me to put it in the microwave again, you shook you head and said, "I don't like it _so_ hot." And then we both laughed.

Bundled up in sweaters and hats and mittens and scarves, we took long walks around the city, marveling at the beauty of the white snow in such an otherwise dark city. Not dark in a metaphorical sense; New York is probably the most lively city there is. But nothing stays _white _here, even the snow. After a day the diesel exhaust or the cigarette smoke catches up to it and turns it black as coal. But if you catch it early enough, the white snow is almost ethereal, delicate and intoxicating all at once.

We sat inside watching a hundred romantic comedies and laughing in all the wrong places. You taught me to play chess and was surprised when I wasn't good at it, which of course made me even more determined to beat you, and soon our skills were even.

There was a power outage on Christmas, so the lights on the beautiful tree I'd convinced you to buy were wasted anyway, and you laughed at me. "Who the hell carries a Christmas tree up six flights of stairs in New York City?" you asked. "We do," I told you.

We lit candles and I turned on a mix from my iPod. It was a slow song, romantic, perfect for the two of us. I took your hands and pulled you into a dance. You objected at first, but then gave it up. We danced around the room in the candlelight that illuminated your delicate features, and I thought it must have been the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

We sat by the window, listening to the rhythmic patter of snow hitting the windowsill. When it rains, it's almost as if the sky is crying, but when it snows, the sky is laughing. Laughing so hard it cries. And when I mentioned this to you, you laughed so hard that you cried, too.

We took a trip down to Blue Mountain in Collingwood, past the Canadian border. Apparently, it was one of the best nearby ski resorts, and we both needed to get away. It was so calm there. It was hard for both of us to get to sleep without the constant whirring of engines and shouts of teenagers outside, but we woke up to find sun drifting through the windows and a blanket of white covering the ground. It was the most gorgeous sight I'd ever seen.

You were terrified of the chairlifts that went all the way up the mountain, but I laughed and said, "I'm not afraid," even though I'd never skied a double diamond before. You were the smart one and said, "I'll wait for you at the bottom."

I was trying to be brave – no, actually, I was trying to impress you. I got all the way up that enormous hill, looked down, and felt nauseous. It was so huge that I couldn't even see the bottom. But you were down there, waiting for me, and I knew I had to get to you. So I closed my eyes and started down the hill.

And any idiot knows better than to close her eyes on a ski hill. I zigged and then I zagged and then I fell flat on my ass. And the pull of gravity was so strong that it managed to drag me all the way down the hill, minus one ski pole. First of all, I was terrified, and secondly, I felt like a fool. You doubled over laughing when you saw me flying down that hill on my ass. I was _not _happy.

And at night, when we'd finished skiing and my butt was hurting like hell from the battering it had taken on that hill, we lay together in bed, holding each other tightly. We didn't speak, but we didn't have to. Our love was there, just as clear and beautiful as the white snow that blanketed the ground.

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	2. Springs With You

**Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad you liked the first chapter.**

Springs With You

During springs with you, we experienced a newfound freedom, a feeling of rebirth. Spring is the month of new beginnings, when the flowers bloom and the snow melts away. Everything seems so beautiful after the cold winter months. Like us.

We woke up to the sweet chirping of robins and bluebirds and went for walks around the park, marveling at the flowers in bloom. I remembered when I was a child, when I used to make necklaces out of dandelions, and I made one for you. You smiled indulgently when I gave it to you and wore it for the entire day, then surprised me the next day by giving me one of my own, which I dutifully wore. We matched. I always loved it when we matched.

We went for a picnic at Central Park, smiling as we watched the children playing on the playground. You put on SPF 60 sunscreen and reapplied it every hour, which made me roll my eyes. "It's not _that _sunny," I told you. "And you don't burn that easily."

You fixed me with your icy stare. "Yes, I do. I have fair skin. And I guarantee you that you're not going to want to take care of me for three weeks when I get second degree sunburn, listening to me moan about how much it hurts."

I realized that I probably didn't, so I shut my mouth.

We went for long walks every evening, even though it was still relatively cold. And when we got back, our noses pink from the wind, we would curl up in bed with our arms wrapped around each other, making beautiful, gentle love before drifting off to sleep.

I made us lemonade and we sat at the window, just watching. Birds in New York are so fearless; they'll come right up to you and eat your crumbs with such an air of defiance, and people barely notice. When we went to Ottawa to visit your aunt (_forever _ago), they stop their cars to let ducks or geese cross the road. Here, people would just kill them and be done with it, and I guess the birds got smart, because they know better.

I bought you flowers every week, which you thought was a waste of money. "What's the point in getting something that will only last a few days?"

"Shh," I told you, pressing my lips to yours to muffle your protest. "I'm doing something nice for you. Appreciate it, say thank you, and move on." And after I said that, you did.

We spent April inside because it wouldn't stop raining. It came down by the bucketful and didn't stop for an eternity, and we wondered if it ever would. I made us hot chocolate and we curled up on the sofa, buried in blankets, reading or watching television. Sometimes we didn't do anything at all, just sat there together, taking comfort in each other's presence. You'd lay your head in my lap and I'd run my fingers through your silky blonde tresses. I loved being so close to you.

We went on long bike rides around the city and I tried in vain to teach you to skateboard. The third time you fell flat on your face, you gave up and stomped back up to the apartment, where I gently applied Neosporin to the cuts on your face, so they wouldn't get infected. "Olivia Benson, you are masochistic," you growled as I put away the ointment.

"No," I corrected you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and grinning. "_I'm _not the one who lacks balance and falls on my face while trying to skateboard."

You pouted, then folded your hands demurely in your lap. "Never again," you swore, but then the week later, we were back at it. We tried and tried again until you finally learned.

We took a trip up to your parents' "cottage," which wasn't really a cottage at all. It was about eight times the size of our modest apartment and my mouth dropped open when I saw it. "Wow," was all I could manage.

You made a face. "Close your mouth. You look like a fool."

"That's my Alex," I replied sarcastically. "Always _so _sweet."

You laughed. "There's a pool in the back. Let's put our stuff upstairs and then we can swim."

I'd always been uncomfortable in bathing suits, feeling an illogical sense of shame at the scars that marred my skin. They weren't my fault – they never had been – and I knew that in my head, but that didn't make it any easier.

Now, though, it was just the two of us. You never asked, never stared, never made me feel uncomfortable. I told you anyway, though – or at least, you told me I did, crying one night after having a few too many drinks, pouring my soul out as we lay together in bed, with your strong arms wrapped around me. I told you everything and when I woke up in the morning, I didn't remember a thing.

Sometimes I wonder if that night really happened like you said it did. Sometimes, I think that maybe you, with your smile that could melt a heart of stone and your piercing blue eyes that can read right into my soul, are some otherworldly being, an angel maybe. Sometimes you know things about me, things I didn't even know about myself. You can read me so well, and that's how I know that I chose right.

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	3. Summers With You

**Thanks again for all your kind reviews! They always make my day. Enjoy this next chapter.**

Summers With You

During summers with you, we were more relaxed than we ever had been and we wanted to spend every minute together. Summer was always my favorite season. I'd always thought of it as the season of love, especially when it came to us.

We sat outside sipping strawberry daiquiris, which were always my favorite, and trying to tan. Well, _I _was trying to tan; you still insisted on wearing a billion layers of sunscreen. We went to Elliot's for a barbecue every Sunday and you scarfed down three hamburgers before I told you to stop, before you got sick. We sat in his backyard, talking and laughing, playing Frisbee or basketball with Dickie and Lizzie or helping Eli fly his Spiderman kite.

We went up to your parents' boat, which was actually a sixty foot yacht with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and three different decks, not including the "basement". "You parents are incredibly wealthy," I remarked, as if you didn't know that already.

You made a face and continued to change into your bathing suit. Then you turned away and executed a perfect dive into the water. I hesitated for just a moment before jumping in after you, still wearing my clothes.

We drove out to the beach, watching as the waves rippled gently through the water and letting the soft wind tousle our hair. We played in the sand like we were children and built castles with our bare hands, laughing as we raced across the beach, then turned to watch in horror the waves washed over the shore, destroying our creation.

I pouted and said, "Well, that was a colossal waste of time."

But you shook your head. "Sometimes you have nothing to show for all your hard work, but that doesn't mean you didn't work hard."

I rolled my eyes. "If a branch falls in the woods and no one hears it, does it still make a sound?"

You pulled your sunglasses down over your eyes and said seriously, "Yes. Sound is measured by the emission of sound waves, not by whether or not these emissions reach the ears of a human."

I laughed.

We lounged on the beach, tanning, reading, talking, laughing, relaxing in the serenity that the seaside brought us. We watched the sun descend, awed at the different colors the sun emanated as it went down. An expanse of orange and pink and yellow and red and even purple as the sun set over the water. We looked at each other and smiled, marveling at the beauty.

We played tennis at the park, which you were unbelievably bad at. You ended up getting one ball stuck in a tree and another reverberated off the fence and hit a little kid in the face. And that was it for tennis.

We went camping for a week, and that was when I learned how terrified you were of bugs. We were in the tent I'd pitched because you were too busy reading ("just one more page" had turned into "just one more chapter" and then "just another chapter" and then "just do it without me) and I noticed was a spider crawling across the floor. I figured it would get you away from your book, so I lightly tapped your shoulder and said with a grin, "Alex. Bug."

It worked all right. You shrieked and jumped up, clutching your book protectively to your chest and stepping away. "Kill it!" you yelped.

I laughed. "What if I don't?"

You screamed again. "_Liv_!"

I picked it up in my hand and held it in my palm. "You're scared of this harmless little creature?"

You nodded, eyes wide.

"Well, Alex, we're in the wilderness, so get used to it. There are lots of bugs out here."

You unzipped the tent and marched back to the car. "We're going home," you told me firmly.

I laughed again and obediently killed the bug. It took sad puppy eyes, dozens of kisses, and the promise of amazing sex to get you back into the tent.

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	4. Autumns With You

**So here is the final installment! Enjoy.**

Autumns With You

During autumns with you, we pretended to be children again. We celebrated Halloween, a holiday neither of us had much time or use for when we were younger. We had more fun than we'd had in a long time.

We went to the park and spent hours making huge piles of red and orange leaves, then jumping in them and starting over. I buried you in leaves and then jumped in beside you, laughing. We went apple picking and attempted to make an apple cobbler, but it didn't actually look like a cobbler. You tasted it and told me it was good anyway.

You taught me how to make my own Halloween costume and we went all-out, even though I hadn't celebrated Halloween since I was nine. You were a princess – you'd been a princess every year since you were a baby, you told me, and there was no reason to break the tradition now. I was a zombie and you thought the fake blood I'd managed to put together was disgusting. I'd made it so that when you touched my shoulders, fake blood dripped from my arm, and I thought it was ingenious. You screamed the first time it happened and told me to stay away from you.

We went shopping for new jackets and scarves and got ones that matched, just for the heck of it. We went pumpkin picking and carved them up to look like princesses and goblins and monsters and clowns.

We went for a walk in the evening after a long hard day at work because we both needed to get rid of some nervous energy. You told me to bring a jacket even though I was sweating, but I thought I knew better and I didn't listen. And of course, you were right. I got sick and you had no sympathy. "Serves you right," you told me with a grim smile. "That's what happens when you don't listen to me."

You knitted a sweater for me, which I loved and wore every day for the next week. You told me you could teach me how to do it myself, but I shook my head – knowing how to make my own sweaters would somehow reduce the significance of you making one for me. We baked cinnamon cake which didn't turn out and pumpkin pie that did.

On Halloween, we curled up on the sofa and watched scary movies. You covered your eyes every five minutes or so when there was a particularly frightening part and then you were scared to go to sleep. I held you tightly and promised I'd protect you from the monsters in the closet, and covered your face and neck with kisses when you woke up in the middle of the night, terrified of the demons from our movie. It was painfully ironic how you were scared of these fictional monsters, but unafraid of the flesh-and-blood monsters we dealt with on a daily basis. I made a mental note never to watch a scary movie before bed with you again.

We sat in living room, sipping apple cider and playing Scrabble. You always beat me, which only made me more determined to challenge you for a rematch, and then another, and then another. You used words that I didn't even know existed, like "xi." How was I supposed to know that it was the fourteenth letter of the Greek alphabet? I tried to tell you that Greek letters weren't fair, but you reminded me that we'd agreed that anything in the dictionary was fair game, then triumphantly pointed it out to me.

We spent Sundays with the Stablers again, roasting marshmallows over the campfire. I always ended up burning mine or accidentally setting them on fire, but yours were always perfect and golden, and I never understood how you did it. "Tell me your secret!" I begged you, but you just laughed.

"If I told you, it would no longer be a secret."

We went hiking and got lost. My cell phone had a GPS, but I hadn't counted on the fact that we wouldn't get service in the wilderness. Your feet were starting to blister and you had bug bites all over your arms, and you weren't particularly happy with me when you realized I didn't know where we were. "Didn't you bring a map?" you asked me, but obviously I hadn't, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm never going hiking with you again," you swore, but I knew you didn't mean it.

On Thanksgiving, we went to your parents' house (all right, their _mansion_) and had a huge turkey that your mother had spent the day slaving over. You told me this was the only time of year that she ever cooked, and I laughed until I realized you were serious.

We went around the table saying the one thing that we were most thankful for, a tradition your family had done for as long as you could remember, you told me. And when it was my turn, I said I was thankful for you.

**So that's the end of this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Review if you did!**


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